


Have A Little Faith

by andlightplay



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andlightplay/pseuds/andlightplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Doctor understands that Sam and Dean probably don't want to be on Earth right now, angels turn up like bad pennies, and the Doctor has friends in unexpected places. (post-S6 finale for SPN, post-S3 of TW, and post-"A Good Man Goes To War" for DW)</p>
<p>Originally <a href="http://andlightplay.livejournal.com/31984.html">posted on LJ</a> 12/06/11</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have A Little Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://jawdust.tumblr.com/post/6391168600/jack-hey-good-lookin-dean-sorry-pal-not-my), from which Jack and Dean's first three lines of dialogue come.

The TARDIS is fading in the second after Cas blips out, that fucking wail and grind grating on Dean's ears as much as the cold of the concrete floor is seeping into his knees and Cas's soft touch to his cheek is burning on his skin. The Doctor might be cutting it a bit close, but he's always had good timing and they need to just get _away_. Away from this room, with the blood drying on the wall and the scraps of dark suit and flesh on the floor; away from Cas and his crazy powertrip and the terrible radiance of all those souls bottled up inside him and waiting to explode; away from this goddamn _planet_.

The door snaps open and the Doctor's framed against the glow of the TARDIS's interior, waving a frantic hand. "Come on, come on, get in, hurry up! He'll know I'm here, we have to go!"

Dean's already scrambling to his feet and turning to help Sam, who's hunched in on himself with his head down and teeth gritted, swaying slightly with Bobby's hand on his shoulder. "Sam, c'mon," Dean says, getting a hand under his other arm and pulling, and Sam unfolds with him, still unsteady but willing to move. Together they get him through the door, and then the Doctor's slamming it after them and darting away up to the control panel, throwing levers and smacking switches and grabbing for a handhold as the TARDIS goes lurching sideways, sending the three of them tumbling down onto the floor.

"You _really_ need to get crash mats on this thing," Dean informs him when their flightpath evens out, and the Doctor straightens up, releasing his handhold and smoothing a hand through his hair as he turns to smile at Dean. 

"Yes, I've been thinking that myself. Anyway, hello! Seems like it might be best for you to get away from Earth for a little while, hm?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Dean says quietly, watching Sam wincing as he pushes himself up, one hand going to his head. The Doctor waves a meaningful finger at him and rummages around on the console, emerging with a small vial of bright pink liquid which he skips down to bring to Sam, crouching next to him and pressing it, opened, into his hand.

"Here. It's a painkiller and a mild euphoric, should help repress those flashbacks of yours. Sort of like getting slightly drunk, only you won't have a hangover later."

Sam closes his eyes and downs it in one, and almost immediately his face smoothes out, the tense line of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes fading away. He huffs out a breath, eyes blinking open again, and manages a half-smile. "Thanks, Doctor."

"Yeah, thanks," Dean adds, and the Doctor smiles back, hand resting briefly on Sam's shoulder. "So, where's Amy and Rory?"

The Doctor's face sobers again as he stands. "They...wanted to go home for a little bit. There's been quite a lot going on lately and they need a little time to absorb it all. River's back doing...whatever she normally does without me," he continues, anticipating Dean's next question and waving a vague hand, forestalling any more questions. "And I wasn't really planning on doing much of anything until I got a call from a...friend, telling me about you." He watches Dean keenly, head tilted slightly to one side, reminding Dean suddenly and painfully of Cas as he used to be. "I thought you might want a little help."

"You can say that again," Bobby mutters, breaking off from his examination of the TARDIS to eye the Doctor sharply. "What friend?"

"Someone with a vested interest in your wellbeing," the Doctor says evasively, and Dean snorts.

"Huh. Well, they did a fucking bang-up job alright."

The Doctor scrutinises him again. "Have a little faith, Dean. Good things do happen."

Dean feels his teeth grind together, fingernails digging into his palms. He manages a cough of a laugh. "Yeah, okay. Fuck you too."

Sam makes a scandalized little sound but the Doctor doesn't even blink, just shrugs one shoulder and offers him a slight, sad smile. "The bar is still the fifth door on the right."

Dean gives him the barest nod and goes before he can say anything else. "Sorry, he's just-" he hears Sam say, and then after a second, Bobby's slow drawl: "Well, you can certainly pack a lot into a skinny blue box, I'll give ya that."

*

He comes back up when he feels the distinctive clunk of the TARDIS setting down, and by the time he's back in the main room it's empty, the door swung open to reveal what looks like a lot of glass and neon. Great.

The noise hits him like a pair of cymbals to the ears as soon as he steps outside, and the colour almost hurts his eyes. If he didn't know any better he'd say it was some hipster's idea of futuristic, all shiny and bright, but unfortunately he _does_ know better and it's just kind of sad to think the future really is this tacky. He finds Bobby's trucker cap and Sam's stupid girl-hair in some weird egg-shaped booth, but a doorway opens as he approaches and vanishes as he sits down, and the noise reduces to a low background hum. The table's big enough for ten, Sam sprawled comfortably in one corner with something lime-green and poisonous-looking in front of him and Bobby looking grudgingly impressed in the other while cradling an almost circular glass full of something fizzing like crazy, while the Doctor sips at some kind of colour-changing cocktail with a swirly straw, a paper umbrella tucked behind his ear. He raises his eyebrows at Dean as he settles in, feeling the mildly disturbing sensation of the seat _moulding to his body_ as he does, and Dean salutes him with the beer bottle he brought with him from the TARDIS and takes a pull.

He sees the Doctor turn, eyes going wide, but that's all the warning he gets before some guy props himself against the side of the seat and drawls, "Hey, good lookin'."

Dean doesn't even bother turning. Freakin' aliens. "Sorry pal, not my type."

"Not your type? Blue eyes, long coat, unspeakably old and a little bit immortal? I’m your type on legs, big boy," and _that_ gets Dean's attention; he's up and pinning the guy to the side of the booth by the time his brain actually catches up with him, and the guy is just grinning, wrists loose in Dean's grip. He hears the Doctor sigh.

"Dean, this is-"

"Cap'n Jack Harkness," the guy interjects easily, going full-on charm. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

Dean shoves his arm harder against the guy's windpipe. "How do you know about me?"

Unfazed and possibly even smirking, Jack tips his head towards the bar, and Dean turns in what feels like slow motion and finds fucking _Gabriel_ endeavouring to look innocent and failing spectacularly, some douche in a red military jacket next to him raising a sardonic eyebrow. He gets as far as "What the _fu_ -" before Gabriel is right there and wagging a finger at him and he can't move his tongue. Jack gently nudges Dean's arm away from his throat with his chin.

"Boys!" Gabriel proclaims cheerfully, turning to include Sam and spreading his arms wide. "What a pleasant surprise! Long time no see! I hear my little brother's been doing questionable things with demons and then tripped and fell on Purgatory. Honestly, the things that happen now I'm gone."

Dean can only stare at him. 

"How the _hell_ -" Sam starts, and then there's another rustle of wings and goddamn fucking _Balthazar_ appears, a drink in each hand. He passes Gabriel the clear one with some kind of iridescent liquid floating on top like an oil slick, and raises his eyebrows at Dean's incredulous stare. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want one too?" he asks, sucking his own straw into his mouth, and Dean finally realises he's still pinning Jack to the wall and steps back out of his space. Jack straightens his coat and winks at him.

"What in God's name are _you_ doin' here?" Bobby demands finally, and Balthazar grins and lets the straw go.

" _Well_ , after dearest Castiel killed me for...what was it, 'being Judas' - I woke up in Heaven with good old Joshua standing over me and _he_ told me our Father said I should go and find Gabriel." He shrugs. "He always was my favourite brother - he actually has a sense of humour, for one." Gabriel smirks and slings an arm around Balthazar's shoulders, theatrically ruffling his hair.

"That's one word for it," Dean mutters, and Gabriel grins wider.

"What, and you _don't_ think the platypus is hilarious?"

"Yes, that does explain rather a lot," the Doctor murmurs, and oh right yeah, he's there too. Angels and aliens together in some seedy space bar however-many light-years away from Earth - how is this Dean's life?

"Oh, uh. Doctor, Balthazar. You guys can probably bond over tea-drinking or something. And the short one's Gabriel-"

"We've met," Gabriel butts in, shooting Dean a glare, and the Doctor raises his eyebrows.

"Well yes, but I didn't know you were _famous_. Gabriel, eh? You know, that's a much nice name than 'Trickster'."

"That was a job description. And I was in hiding."

"So wait, Cas _killed_ you?" Sam is asking Balthazar, and Gabriel's attention snaps back; he makes a concerned face and starts patting Balthazar down until he's shrugged off and swatted away.

"Stop that. Yes, he sensed Dean thundering to the rescue in that car of his and deduced that _someone_ had told him where to go. I tried to convince him that that Cupid had always been shifty, but-" and he spreads his hands. 

"Okay, so how long have _you_ been here?" Sam says, turning to Gabriel, who shrugs.

"Eh, a little while. Jack and John," and he waves at the Red Coat Guy, who's come over without them noticing and is lounging against the other side of the booth looking bored, though he manages a lazy smirk and a fingerwave at the mention of his name, "have been entertaining me with tales of their many exploits in conning, hustling and otherwise defrauding the poor innocents of the universe."

"For all possible meanings of the word 'hustle'," John adds smoothly, eyeing Dean with entirely too much of a glint in his eye, which apparently amuses both angels deeply; Balthazar sniggers and Gabriel snorts, shaking his head.

"Remember how I told you he has a type?" Gabriel stage-whispers, and John's eyes slide over to Jack.

"Yes, but think more 'trenchcoat' and 'repressed virgin'," Balthazar adds, and Sam's hand clamps around Dean's arm before he even realises he's moved. He still can't even _think_ about Cas right now cause it makes him want to punch things until he bleeds, but Balthazar's little asides are a whole 'nother thing and punching _him_ would just be satisfying. 

"Dean," Sam says quietly, and Dean makes himself take a deep breath, if only cause punching an angel gets you nothing but bruised knuckles. Both Balthazar and Gabriel have stopped laughing now and are watching him with something like understanding, which is frankly disturbing coming from two complete asshats like them. Dean makes himself relax though, and Sam's hold loosens.

"Well then," the Doctor says brightly into the silence. "Would anybody like another drink?"

*

An indeterminate amount of time later, during which Jack, John and Gabriel had all insisted on buying at least one round, the Doctor claps his hands. "Right then! I think it's about time we got cracking!"

Dean, who's drunk enough that the bar actually now looks quite attractive (as does the blue chick with the scales and the tail fluttering all four of her eyes at him), blinks at him. "Where're we goin'?"

"To see a friend," the Doctor says cheerfully, patting him on the hand like he thinks Dean needs reassuring. "John, it's been simply lovely to meet you. Jack, you are as always an officer and a gentleman."

"Baby, I can be whatever you want me to be," Jack answers easily, smiling at him. "And I swear you get younger every regeneration."

"Flattery will get you almost everywhere," the Doctor says happily, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "I hope that next time we see each other, it might be somewhere a little more familiar, hm?"

Jack's smile dims a little, something in his eyes shuttering. "May be."

"Anyway, I'm taking the angels off your hands," the Doctor continues, as if he hasn't noticed. 

"Are you now?" Gabriel asks, eyebrows raised, and the Doctor nods.

"Yes. I think this is definitely a trip you'll want to be taking."

Gabriel and Balthazar exchange a glance, and then they both shrug. When Dean stands up he finds that the pleasantly warm weight across his shoulders was John's arm but can't bring himself to do more than glare, which gets him an unrepentant smirk in return. It's only when he tries to actually follow the Doctor back to the TARDIS that he realises he may have drunk a little more than he thought, and Sam isn't much better, but with the angels lurking helpfully nearby and providing a running commentary with the occasional interjection from Bobby, they manage to wend their way back. Dean insists they go down to the stairs so that they have somewhere to sit and something to hang onto when the TARDIS takes flight, and Gabriel sighs and zaps them there himself "rather than watch you two morons try and get there and probably brain yourselves in the process". Whatever, they totally go in the right direction, just maybe not really in the straightest line. Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, feeling tired and fuzzy-drunk and worried about Cas because he's angry at him because he's scared because that many souls might make him explode and maybe three strikes and he's out, and Sam drops his head on top of Dean's and pats clumsily at his arm.

The flight doesn't seem at all as lurchy and swoopy as the last one, and before Dean knows it they've landed and the Doctor's calling them up again. He adds something for the angels Dean doesn't quite catch cause he's too busy trying to get his feet to work properly, but then there are two fingers against his temple and he's suddenly and completely stone-cold sober.

"Doctor's orders," Balthazar says blandly, and Dean glares at him, trying to convey as much disgust as possible. Balthazar just smirks at him.

This time the Doctor waits until everyone's there before he opens the door with a flourish, and swings out. "Chuck!"

And Dean...Dean _knows_ that wallpaper. This room. Those piles of paper and pens scattered everywhere and the guy sitting at that desk. " _Chuck_?"

Behind him, he hears Balthazar make a kind of strangled choking noise and half a word that gets cut off when Gabriel apparently elbows him in the ribs.

Chuck pulls away from embracing the Doctor to look at him, and smiles, warm and fond. "Balthazar. Gabriel." He's wearing all white and looks...clean. Well presented. Self-assured. Dean knows he got a good boost of self-esteem from whacking a ghost with a poker just like a real hunter, and also probably from getting a girlfriend, but he can't quite imagine anyone dating Becky could be quite this...calm. It's weird.

"Woah there Chuck, I think I need sunglasses or something! I mean, don't get me wrong, it's definitely an improvement from the whole dressing-gown-and-boxers thing, but don't you think it's maybe a little douchey?"

"Dean..." Sam hisses, frowning like he's trying really hard to figure something out, and something about the quality of the silence behind him prompts Dean to turn round. Balthazar and Gabriel are both staring at him like he just pissed on their mother (if they had one). Chuck laughs.

The room goes abruptly dark, blue-black clouds spreading like ink across the sky outside the window. Thunder cracks, sudden and deafening, and then Cas is there, lit up kind of golden like there's light under his skin. His eyes flare white. "You took them away from me."

The Doctor lifts his chin. "Yes. I did."

"What, you thought we'd stay here when you're juiced up out of your fucking mind?" Dean snaps. 

Cas turns to look at him, eyes settling back to blue, glow fading. "Dean, I am your God."

Chuck clears his throat. Cas instantly goes back into Tinkerbell mode, glaring at him. Chuck holds out a hand. "Castiel. Why don't we take a walk?" They stare at each other, and then suddenly they're not there anymore. The thunder rumbles off into the distance; the clouds lighten, but don't go away.

Gabriel whistles, long and low. "Wow. He really pulled out all stops, huh."

Balthazar rolls his eyes. "Pissing contest. Ugh."

"Is it though, if Castiel is the only one pissing?"

Dean blocks them out. He also refuses to think about Chuck, because that is just. That _can't_ be. So. Not thinking about it. He won't think about what might be happening with Cas either, cause it makes his stomach do weird clenchy things and what if there's nothing of him left to save?

"So, Chuck? _Chuck_ was your friend?" Sam is saying to the Doctor. "Or, well, should we even be calling Him-"

"He likes 'Chuck'," the Doctor says, a slight smile curving his mouth. "'Chuck' is an excellent name, there is nothing wrong with 'Chuck'. 'Chuck' is cool."

"No, no, yeah, of course, it's fine, I mean of course we'll keep calling him Chuck, whatever he likes," Sam babbles, and Dean rolls his eyes and smacks him on the arm.

"Dude, it's still _Chuck_. Stop freaking out. Hell, we've both told him point-blank that he's not a God before and we're not smote, so I think we're good."

Sam's eyes go wide and he swallows convulsively. Gabriel cackles behind them, shaking his head helplessly.

"Oh man, He really _must_ like you two. I mean, I have no idea _why_ -"

"Because you have all the charm of monkeys wielding their favoured projectiles-"

"Yeah yeah, we're all primitive and unenlightened and whatever, but your Daddy loves us anyway and it drives you _nuts_ ," Dean cuts in, and Balthazar shrugs.

"And yet after a while it becomes strangely endearing."

"Castiel certainly thinks so," Gabriel agrees with a smirk.

"Okay, seriously, can you _stop_ -" Dean starts, and then the Doctor's got a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean."

" _What_?" Behind him, the air shifts, and there's that devastatingly familiar rustle of invisible wings.

"You just have to have a little faith," the Doctor says softly, eyes bright, smile threatening to spill over into a full-on beam. 

Dean turns around.


End file.
